


Stiles Hates (Loves) Sundays

by lydiaire



Series: Kinky Stuff (Mostly just spanking) [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Edgeplay, F/M, Female Stiles Stilinski, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:02:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29503836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lydiaire/pseuds/lydiaire
Summary: Of course, once she got over with the actual doing it, the emotional release was something she loved. It made her heart feel lighter, her brain less chaotic. It was like a weekly reset button.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Kinky Stuff (Mostly just spanking) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2167608
Kudos: 40





	Stiles Hates (Loves) Sundays

**Author's Note:**

> I like this. Hopefully someone else does too. :)

Stiles hated Sundays. They had a complex relationship, Sundays and her. See, Sundays were the days she got her maintenance spanking. What’s a maintenance spanking? Well it depends. For some it’s a spanking that reminds a sub to behave, keep them in line, for others it’s a way to punish multiple minor infractions at once. For Stiles, it’s really more a form of release. An outlet for all the stress and emotion she keeps bottled up inside. It’s really almost a form of therapy. 

The first bad part about Sunday: they were all about her. This might sound wonderful to some people, but Stiles had always had a hard time accepting being cared for, no matter how much she might crave it. She loved to take care of the people in her life, show them they were loved through her actions and words, but it was hard for her to give them the chance to do the same. 

The day always started with sleeping in while Derek made her breakfast, sometimes in bed, sometime out. He loved to make it a whole thing. Waffles, bacon, eggs, cinnamon rolls, fruit, freshly squeezed orange juice, the works. They’d eat together, and she’d be forbidden from cleaning. She had to go read, or watch tv, or do something she enjoyed while Derek cleaned the kitchen. 

Then, they’d spend the rest of the day doing things she enjoyed. Sometimes they went to the comic book store, or the beach, or they stayed in and relaxed and played games. She wasn’t to lift a finger. Derek would prepare and clean up after their lunch and dinner as well, and as the day went on she would get more and more ready for how the day would end. 

The second bad part about Sunday: No sex. At all. Or, well, she didn’t get to get off until after her spanking, Derek didn’t get to the whole day. Which means she didn’t get to touch Derek sexually the whole day, which sucked. It had seemed like a silly rule to her, at first, but she understood it now. Like with the rest of her life, she liked making sex about her partner. Putting their needs and pleasure first. So if Sundays truly were to be all about her, sex had to be off the table. 

The worst and the best part about Sunday: The Spanking. She liked being spanked, really she loved it. But these weren’t their normal teasing sexy spankings. They really weren’t any harsher than those, but these didn’t have the pleasure involved that melded with the pain and made her brain light up. And unlike usual spankings she was in control of what, where, and how many instead of Derek. And she liked Derek being in control, hence the whole bdsm part of their relationship. She had to decide what she was spanked with, what position, and how many times, based on what she felt she needed to bring her to an emotional release. 

Of course, once she got over with the actual doing it, the emotional release was something she loved. It made her heart feel lighter, her brain less chaotic. It was like a weekly reset button.

And so where did she find herself on this particular Sunday evening? In their bedroom. 90% of the time that’s where Stiles preferred to have her spanking, she was comfortable there and already on the bed for post-spanking cuddling. 

She stood in front of Derek in her comfiest t-shirt and panties. Derek was already sitting on the bed, wearing pajama pants and a soft t-shirt, feet bare against the fluffy white rug on the floor. He looked cozy, like she could crawl up inside him and be warm forever. The hairbrush, usually a fun toy, sitting beside him, looking as innocent as can be. He looked up at her, eyes warm and kind, “How many tonight?” His voice was gentle but firm. She had to decide, he would not decide for her.

Stiles paused to think for a moment, pretending she hadn’t already decided an hour ago, “50.” She pretended not to notice the tiny quirk of his eyebrows at her number, 50 was a bit high for these nights, but she had had a stressful week. 

“Alright, 50 it is.” Derek patted his knee gently, and she went to him, bending over and down until her weight was rested fully on his lap. He absentmindedly rubbed her butt, smoothing the cotton of her underwear over her cheeks. “You ready?” He asked, unnecessarily, but he liked to hear her verbalize it.

“Yes,” Stiles answered, her voice small and quiet. His fingers tucked into the waistband of her panties and eased them down till they were midway on her thighs, loose but the tension of her slightly parted legs was enough to keep them up. 

He rubbed the back of her thigh this time, “We’ll start with a warm-up then,” he said, also unnecessarily. She knew he’d warm her up first to prevent bruising, that’s not what this spanking was about. His palm slapped down on her ass, really with more sound than pain. She didn’t count these, just relaxed into them as he spanked her again and again, alternating between cheeks and areas at random, building up pressure and heat as he went along. 

It’s at this point Stiles starts to lose focus and time. Derek may have spanked her for a minute or an hour and she wouldn’t know. The smacks were actually starting to hurt now, and she found herself making involuntary gasps and moans at the particularly sharp strikes.

Two more particularly hard smacks came down on the spot where her ass and thighs met, drawing soft cries and the first few tears from Stiles. Derek’s hand came down again, this time to rub and knead at the heated flesh, preventing blood from pooling under the skin unevenly. She knew at this point her ass had to be quite pink.

“Okay, 50, I want you to count. And let me know if at any point we need to stop or take a breather, okay?”

Stiles nodded and said a tiny okay, knowing Derek’s hearing would pick it up, as she clutched to the soft fabric of his pajamas for comfort. 

They sat in silence for a moment, Stiles waiting when, crack! The first blow of the solid wooden hairbrush against her ass almost surprised her, and she yelped softly before letting out a quiet “one.” They went like that, smack, two, smack, three, each blow drawing a slightly louder cry from Stiles as the sting and pain began to build up.

At 15 Derek took a pause to rub her backside again, letting Stiles’ breathing slow and her whimpers of pain to quiet. 

The next blow drew a loud cry, as the brush came down at the top of her thigh, “16,” she said, “Oh! 17,” came the next one, on the other thigh. 

The next storm of spanks rained down on her, Derek leaving her only enough time to sob out the number they were on. And she was at this point sobbing. They were only just at the halfway point, but the brush was large and covered nearly an entire cheek, so it was coming down on already spanked areas now. 

“Twenty-six,” she cried, and let out a wail as 28 came down particularly hard. Derek’s focus went back down to her thighs and sit spot, and she found herself clutching harder to his pants, as each blow brought a loud cry from her mouth and a fresh new wave of stingy hot pain. This was it, the peak. The moment when nearly every part of her wanted to beg him to stop, to take back what she asked for. 

Another strike, another number, as she pushed past the mental block, clear to the other side. As she cried out “34,” her sobs took on a different quality. They weren’t from the pain anymore, she could barely feel the pain at this point, they were from the torrent of emotions, pouring out of her in the form of tears. At 35 Derek paused again to stroke her skin, providing gentle and quiet support as she continued to cry. After a few minutes her cries slowed down, until they were just whimpers. 

Derek brushed his hand up to rub at her back, going in large sweeping motions across her entire backside. “Okay baby, last 15, are you ready?”

“Please,” she begged. Derek obliged, bringing the brush down quickly against her skin, drawing new tears and cries. These ones were different though. They felt easier and cleaner somehow. The pain turned into the deep sort of ache like a sore muscle, the stinging on her skin was just warmth. 

As the last few swats came, Stiles easily counting the number, her mind felt clear, the way you feel after a headache you didn’t realize you had was gone. Like taking off a heavy weight you’d been wearing so long that you no longer felt it, her body felt light and floaty. The last spank was barely a tap, and she let out an easy “50” parting her legs as she knew where this was going next. 

Derek’s fingers drew designs on the crimson skin of her ass, circles and zig zags, occasionally teasing lower where she was dripping wet and aching in an entirely different way. 

“Please,” she moaned. This please was a different kind, all liquid heat and honey. She spread her legs more, as wide as they could go with her laying on his lap, and tilted her hips up to expose herself to him as much as possible. He finally gave her mercy and dipped a thick finger into her waiting cunt, sliding smoothly in and out to get his finger nice and slick before trailing up to her clit.

The first touch was intense, she had been waiting, heat pulsing between her legs for the last fifteen smacks, and she almost felt oversensitive from being left desperate. Derek rubbed gently, in slow circles around her clit, brushing over it every couple of rounds, drawing more gasps and whimpers from her each time. The pleasure began to build within her, and when he added two fingers into her pussy, curling them up and rubbing deep inside her it swelled. 

She felt her body start to tighten and clench, preparing for the overcoming wave of her orgasm to hit her when he stopped moving his fingers. For a moment she was disoriented, her mind trying to figure out why it wasn’t being overwhelmed with pleasure as expected. “Derek,” she whined, “please. Don’t tease me.” She tried to move her hips to give herself pleasure but her position made it difficult. 

Derek chuckled, “Come on, we both know you love it when I tease you.” But he began to move his fingers again in the same way before, but slower. It took longer this time, his fingers so gentle on her body, her hips gyrating and thrusting weakly, but the pleasure built up once more, coming up and up so slowly.

Derek stopped moving again. Stiles let out a cry of frustration, “Derek, please, please I want to come,” she moaned. 

He shushed her, free hand rubbing her back soothingly. “I know baby, but do you want to come like this, over my knee, or do you want to be on top of me and I’ll use my tongue.” 

Stiles’ poor brain was too melted to think clearly. “I- I don’t know, I just want to come. Just please make me come Derek, please, please.” 

His fingers started moving again, brushing circles around her clit and rubbing gently against her g-spot. Her orgasm started almost immediately, but went achingly slow, each breath brought a new spasm as the pleasure ratcheted higher and higher. Finally when it seemed it go no further, she peaked, body convulsing as she wailed, fluid gushing from her cunt as he continued his ministrations, holding her at that level of pleasure until her body gave out, losing all tension and slumping boneless over his lap, breath coming in short pants as she clenched and spasmed around his fingers. He eased up on the pressure, her clit red and sensitive, as he slowly drew his fingers out of her as the spasming began to stop. 

They sat there for a moment while Stiles caught her breath. She could feel Derek, hard against her stomach. But she knew he’d remain that way, as Sunday’s were all about her. 

He lifted her gently, up off his lap and then on it, so she was sitting cuddled up with him. She wrapped her arms around him tightly, soaking in the warmth and comfort of his body. He kissed her cheeks and her forehead, rubbed her back, and held her close. He pulled away then slightly, and held a wet wipe he’d grabbed from the bedside table to her face, gently wiping away her tear tracks, the cool dampness a relief on her hot and swollen face. 

After tossing the wipe back to the bedside table, he lifted her easily to pull her panties up, pausing to gather the moisture around her pussy up with his fingers, sucking them into his mouth with a devious smirk, then continuing to pull them up back over her. 

Dressed again, her body finally began to register how tired she was, her eyelids drooped and she leaned into Derek’s chest. “Here, let’s lay you down,” he said. He laid her on her stomach, then leaned back over to the bedside table, grabbing the tub of cream they kept there. He inched her panties down again slightly, just enough to gently massage it into her skin. 

When he was finished Stiles was nearly asleep, so he pulled her panties back up, put the cream away, and turned off the lamp. He laid next to her, pulling her to his chest as she turned to seek out his warmth, burrowing into his firm chest and drifting to sleep. Stiles loved Sundays. 


End file.
